


Daniel Dreiberg and the Rorschach Paper

by SympatriCuckoo



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Daily Mail, Gen, but a snarky pushover, dan is a pushover, dumb dumbness, i mean what else can one do in these circumstances?, rorschach and masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SympatriCuckoo/pseuds/SympatriCuckoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some newspapers that report the oddest "scientific" discoveries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daniel Dreiberg and the Rorschach Paper

**Author's Note:**

> for once, it’s not Times’ fault.
> 
> Warnings: PG(-13)? Mentions of masturbation as in it’s something that happens and sometimes guys do it; sometimes Dan does it; Rorschach has old fashioned views on sexuality, rather like the older sort of nun; tried to replicate the style of Rorschach’s journal, but probs failed; passing mention of drowned babies; cracky, hopefully lulzy?; that’s a weird juxtaposition; short; unedited. Otherwise gen.

Rorschach digs through the trashcan, emerging with a newspaper. So far, he’s found five; they smell like their previous resting place, that is to say, like garbage, and pedestrians give him a wide berth.

 

Where he expects to see the New York Post printed in large bold letters up top, he instead reads The Daily Mail. He’s about to chuck it, not because he particularly dislikes the United Kingdom but because it’s 3,256 miles away from being pertinent to his interests, when the colorful headline catches his eye.

 

In beige and pink flesh tones, it declares: “Research Finding: Masturbation Causes Cancer! starts page 4″.

 

He stares for a moment before calmly tucking it under his shirt, stowing it away with the other five.

 

Serious. Very serious. Always had my suspicions; something that pleasurable will always be terrible for you. Science finds too late what was already known to humanity before the dawn of the microscope, the vaccine, the particle and the bomb. Man kills man, woman kills woman; babies downed and flesh disposed. Demons masquerading as humans and painted in sex, for sex.

 

While one sane voice quails under the weight of the insane century, perhaps two can appeal to Night Owl’s common sense, inhumed under soft-intellectual sensibilities. Can reinforce the decayed shoring of morality. The act isn’t one of procreation, but of death.

 

~*~

 

Dan wishes he could be surprised, but after years of Rorschach breaking into his brownstone and leaving in his wake empty cans and dirty dishes, all he can feel is a vague sense of relief.

 

At least it’s not a burglar or a particularly voracious raccoon or something.

 

Rorschach inhales Dan’s food, shoveling beans and spam into his mouth so fast that his cheeks bulge with it. A gloved finger brushes away the juices leaking from the corner of his mouth, and Rorschach considers it as he chews, tilts his head rather like his finger is an informant that needs grilling. Rorschach swallows audibly, then sticks the stained leather into his mouth.

 

The amount of horror and disgust Dan feels might have been less if the man had  instead broken his own finger.

 

“Can I _help_ you?” Dan tries for an even, helpful tone.

  
“Could stock more Hormel. Don’t trust this.” Rorschach indicates Indian takeout he’s already started to eat. “American foods need more support. Losing cultural identity in the face of unchecked immigration.”

 

“I meant _do you need a napkin_.”

 

“Have gloves.”

 

Dan sighs. “Look, man. Why are you here?”

 

Rorschach’s head turns to face him. Appalling table manners wave at him.

 

“Not that I’m not happy you’re here! You know you can drop by as often as you like! You’ve certainly done that before, even when I’m not home to let you in. Or when I’m sleeping. And you’re certainly welcome to my pantry, even if you’re eating my dinner.” Dan’s aware he’s babbling, but there’s something disconcerting about a man, who’s eating his own body weight in legumes and pork, listening _very_ attentively. It makes one want to talk.

 

Rorschach calmly continues to fork scoops of food into his mouth.

 

“I guess what I’m asking is, why are you still here? You’re never here when I’m around.”

 

Rorschach places the can on the table, licks the fork clean and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand before pulling his mask down. He points to a pile of cans on Dan’s counter.

 

“Newspaper. Very interesting article. Should be aware.”

 

The empty cans on top of the paper are placed in the sink for later. The newspaper in question is unfamiliar, but what truly captures Dan’s attention is the headline.

 

“Masturbation causes cancer….?” Dan takes off his glasses, polishes them and re-reads the sentence. Nope. Nooooooope. Still the same.

 

Rorschach nods. “See. Licentious behavior should stop. “Self-love” actually self-harm.”

 

Dan doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. He wonders if this is how Kirk felt during that evil universe episode, boggled and confused and unsure where to even start to address the wrongness with everything.

 

“What-? This…. Rorschach, no. Cancer.” Coherency is lost. Dan’s sure, positive, 100% certain that masturbation does not cause cancer, but the logic can’t be refuted without knowledge of the paper’s arguments. With a resigned sigh, he opens to page four. The article scars him in ways that his parents’ sex talk never managed. He’s not even sure what to address first. The scientific method? Correlation versus causation? Sample sizes? Confounding variables?

 

Dan glances up. Is it just Dan’s imagination or do Rorschach’s blots look helpful and content in their owner’s correctness? Is this what projection is?

 

The newspaper flaps as Dan gestures, impotent in the face of his former partner’s surety.

 

“…You know, buddy? You’re right.” Reality feels weak, and the sentence sounds thready to Dan’s ears. His mind rebels. He tries to look at his own mouth in horrified surprise. He did not, _did not_ just say that.

 

His treacherous mouth continues, “I guess I won’t masturbate anymore.” With the corner of his mind not panicking, Dan wonders if Adrian has a time machine so he can go back and make these past few minutes never happen.

 

The blots look pleased, and Dan smiles back even as he tries to plan how to sneakily masturbate without Rorschach knowing.

 

God, between this and his ED and his chub, it’s no wonder why he can’t get dates.


End file.
